Sign of the Times (34 page)

Chapter Fifty One

“Felix,” Antonia called upstairs when she got home.
 
“Get down here, now!”

She was turning into her mother, she thought.
 
What had happened to her belief that when she had her own kids, she would treat them differently?
 
Maybe her parents hadn’t been so wrong after all.

“Yeah?” Felix asked when he entered the kitchen.
 
His attitude was belligerent, but wary.

“Sit.”
 
It was not a request.

Felix scuffed over to the table and pulled out a chair.

“I saw Mrs Teviot today.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And stop talking like that!” Antonia was infuriated. “Yeah and uh-huh.
 
Do you think your father and I pay a fortune to send you to private school for you to talk like an ape?”

“Apes don’t talk,” Felix said matter-of-factly.

“Don’t backchat me Felix.
 
I’m not in the mood.
 
I want to know what’s going on.”

He shrugged.
 
Antonia prodded, “Felix, your grades have gone from being excellent to the point where Mrs Teviot is possibly going to have to fail you.”

Silence.

“Fine.
 
Your father will talk to you later, but in the meantime consider yourself grounded until I see an improvement in your marks and” she held up her hand to block his interruption, “that includes the Kings of Leon concert.”

“But I’ve already paid for my ticket.”

“I don’t care.
 
Upstairs and get your science books out, if you want to ever leave this house again, or alternatively let me know what’s going on and why your grades have slipped so dramatically.”

Her son looked at her for the longest time and then wordlessly went upstairs.

Fine, if that’s the way he wanted to play it, so be it.
 
She hadn’t even got to the part about no pocket money for two weeks.

Antonia started making dinner and once the chicken pie was in the oven, she grabbed one of her recipe books and went through to the lounge.
 
They were having a dinner party on Saturday, this time for friends.
 
She liked to have plenty of time to prepare. Fortunately she wasn’t working on Saturday, so would have the whole day to get everything ready.
 
There would be eight of them.
 
Clara was having a sleepover at one of her friends’ houses.
 
Felix would have been out, but now he’d be stuck in his room, unless of course he decided he wanted to share before Saturday.

“Hi,” Jack swept into the room.
 
Antonia jumped up. She’d been so immersed in Saturday’s menu she hadn’t heard the car.

“So, how did the first day go?” Antonia asked him.

“Good, I think.
 
Opening statements are done. You know how it is.
 
I fret about it the night before.
 
I want it to be just so, but in the end, as soon as I get up there, it just flows.”

Antonia knew.
 
She sat her glass down on the pewter coaster and tried to work out whether to tell her husband about Felix just yet.
 
She opted to let him eat in peace and unburden himself about his day.
 
After dinner, before he retreated to his office, she’d tell him.
 
She didn’t think Felix would show his face until he was called anyway.

They ate in companionable silence.
 
Clara was having dinner at her friend’s house.
 
If Jack was surprised that Felix didn’t join them, he didn’t show it.
 
Either he was used to his son’s idiosyncrasies or he had his mind on the case.

Antonia cleared the plates, loaded the dishwasher and went into the living room, to find Jack relaxing with a magazine.
 
He was so untidy!
 
His slippers had been kicked off haphazardly beside his chair, magazines were strewn all over the coffee table and his tie lay limply on the sofa.
  
She checked herself from tidying up and sat opposite him, plumping up the cushion.

“Jack?” she interrupted her husband’s reverie.

“Yes?” he regarded her closely, always aware that his name said in that tone of voice didn’t bring good news.

“I went to see Felix’s teacher today.”

“Oh yes?” Jack folded the magazine over at the page he was reading and dropped it on the coffee table.

“His work’s slipping.”
 
Jack raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
 
“Badly,” added Antonia.

Jack looked downright pained.
 
“Felix?” he gestured upstairs
.

 
“Yes. I tried to talk to him, but he clammed up.
 
I’ve grounded him until his marks improve or he tells us what’s going on.”

“Is that why he wasn’t down for dinner?” Jack asked, realisation dawning.

“Probably.
 
Anyway, could you have a word?”

“Sure.
 
Wonder what the problem is.”

Antonia wondered too.

Half an hour later, Jack came back into the living room, hands in his pockets.
 
“He won’t tell me.
 
Something’s wrong, I can sense it, but he won’t tell me.
 
I asked him if he was being bullied and he looked at me as if I was a cretin.”

Antonia didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.
 
Did that mean that whatever the problem was, it was worse or better than being bullied?
 
What could they do if he wouldn’t tell them?

The next day Antonia was particularly snappish at work.
 
She prided herself in being one hundred percent professional, but she was human and she had off days the same as anyone else.
 
She checked her messages.
 
Nothing from her son.
 
Was he just being a typical teenager?
 
Would it all blow over?
 
She hoped so.
 
She’d been lucky when he was a young teenager.
 
He hadn’t become an unruly mass of raging hormones on the eve of his thirteenth birthday.
 
This was alien territory for her.
 
What if he had got in with a bad crowd?
 
Maybe he owed money.
 
What could it be?
 
The phone ringing snapped her back to the present.

“Hi, Antonia.
 
It’s Holly.
 
How are you?”

“Holly! What a wonderful surprise.
 
I’m great thanks,” said Antonia, neglecting to mention her errant son.
 
“How’s Italy?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful.
 
You’d love it here.
 
You should come and
visit.
 
Lucy’s just been.”

“Has she?” Antonia tried to disguise her lack of astonishment. Lucy always landed on her feet and it didn’t surprise her that if she had a sister she could visit in Tuscany, that she would make the most of it. Poor Holly was always in Lucy’s shadow.
 
Not quite as stunning, but infinitely more pleasant.
 

“Yes.
 
We had a fabulous time and I’ve been to a wedding.”

“Lucy too?” Antonia was intrigued.
 
She couldn’t imagine any man would be safe with Lucy around.

“No. It was before she came.”

“Ah.
 
And how are preparations coming along for your own wedding?” Antonia asked.
 
Was there hesitation in her niece’s voice, Antonia wondered, before Holly said, “Ticking along.
 
Yes, left Tom in charge whilst I’m away and of course I keep in touch with Maria by email.”

Antonia tried to recall who Maria was.
 
Holly knew such a lot of people.
 
Then she remembered that was the wedding planner’s name.

“Well, that’s great.
 
Were you just phoning for a chat or do you need help or anything?”

“No.
 
I was just phoning to see if I can talk you into coming to visit me.
 
It’s so lovely here.”

Antonia was delighted that her niece had thought of her, but at the back of her mind, something was brewing.
 
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was definitely something.

“I’d love to darling, but I’ll need to see. What’s the nearest airport?”

“Florence, but if you want to go with the low cost airlines, you’re talking Pisa or Rome. They’re both about a three hour drive.”

“Three hour drive.
 
Well, I’d need to come for more than just the weekend then, for it to be worth the hassle,” she said not unkindly.

“Even better,” said Holly.

“I’ll speak to Jack, but he’s busy with a case at the moment, so I think it will just be me.”

“Fantastic. We can have lots of girly chats then,” Holly always said the right thing.

“Anyway, best go.
 
I know how busy you are.”

“Thanks for phoning, Holly.
 
Maybe I can get out next month.”

“Look forward to it.
 
Bye.”

As Antonia put the phone back in her bag, she realised she’d have to get to the bottom of the Felix situation before jetting off anywhere.
 
She was due a break though.
 
It had been ages since their trip to New Zealand and they’d only managed the odd weekend to the lakes since then, not enough to sustain you when you worked as hard as they did.
 
Besides, if Louise could go off gallivanting around the world for a year, what was to stop Antonia going to Italy for a week?

The weekend soon came around and it was all Antonia could do to get the housework done, before she started cooking for the party.
 
In all fairness, Clara did help and even insisted she make dessert, white chocolate pots, simple but delicious.
 
Jack was off playing golf and Felix was in his room, studying, desperately trying to improve his grades, so he could get out next month.
 
He made no secret of the unfairness of it all, silent when he did venture downstairs, although he stomped around in his room and on the stairs to such an extent, that his father came out and told him to cut it out immediately.
 
Antonia could hear him on his mobile, which she’d forgotten to confiscate.
 
That was too great a distraction for him to have.

Antonia swept into his room and said, “I’ll have that, thanks.
 
You can get it back, when you let us know what’s going on.”

“Mum,” wailed Felix.

“Enough,” she admonished him with a stern glance and he instantly backed down.
 
Felix had been on the receiving end of his mother’s tongue too many times and it wasn’t an experience he relished.

Antonia went to shower and change her clothes.
 
The house sparkled.
 
Her guests could have eaten their dinner off any surface in the house.
 
They were all immaculate. It was a bonus about entertaining.
 
You had to do a mountain of housework for them coming, but then the house was clean and tidy for a good while after that, in theory at least, not counting one messy husband and a slobbish teenage boy.
 
Clara was like her, tidy to a fault.
 
All of her clothes were sorted in her wardrobe, hangers facing the same way, co-ordinated by colour and season.
 
Her shoes were still in the boxes.

Antonia luxuriated in the spa shower.
 
It had been expensive, but it was worth it on occasions like this, when she’d worked hard all day, or on her day off, to feel as if she were being pampered.
 
The jets sprayed out from six different holes and water swooshed over her body, relaxing her.
 
Tilting her face upwards to the huge showerhead, she let the water cascade over her hair, face and shoulders.
 
Squirting shower gel over her body, she rubbed it in slowly.
 
She liked to take her time when getting ready for a dinner party, particularly when she was hostess.

After drying her hair, she used her straighteners to make it glossy and smooth.
 
As she painted her fingernails, she thought she didn’t brush up too badly for her age.
 
Dousing herself liberally with perfume, she finished off with a little spray in her cleavage.
 
She donned cream trousers, with a red blouse, and matching camisole underneath; then, she popped cream, Cuban heels on her feet.
 
Gold leaf earrings and a pendant were added and then she was ready.
 
It wasn’t often she dressed up like this, only when they had company or went to the theatre.
 
Around the house she wore jeans or joggers.

Jack came in as she was applying mascara.
 
He kissed her, told her she looked beautiful and left to shower.
 
It was so much easier for men.